How to Save a Life
by Kaslyna
Summary: The DA's office mourns Alexandra Borgia and Claire Kincaid in their own way.


**A/N: This song fits so well… The DA's office mourns both Claire and Alexandra.**

**Disclaimer: Law & Order belongs to Dick Wolf and NBC; I own nothing but the plot so please do not sue me.**

_Step one you say we need to talk  
He walks you say sit down it's just a talk  
He smiles politely back at you  
You stare politely right on through  
Some sort of window to your right  
As he goes left and you stay right  
Between the lines of fear and blame  
And you begin to wonder why you came  
_

Their last kiss would forever haunt him.

The bittersweet innocence, the poetic justice, and the reassurance that she loved him, all expressed in that one fiery explosion of a kiss.

She had sat on the couch. He had sat down beside her, taking her hand in his. She rested her head tiredly against his shoulder.

"I don't want to fight anymore, Jack," she had whispered, voice soft and soothing.

"I don't, either," he says simply.

She had turned then, tears in her trusting chocolate eyes. He pulled her into his lap and just held her, toying with her wrist.

"Why?" her voice quivers, "Why? Where did it go wrong, Jack?"

"Shhh," he murmurs, "Shhh, Claire…"

"I'm going," she tells him indignantly.

"If you wish," he tells her, knowing it is pointless to argue.

"Thank you," she sighs, "For not fighting about it."

"There's really no use," he chuckles, "You usually get what you want, Claire."

"You know me too well," she says, smiling teasingly.

He looks into her beautiful eyes, and it is as if the past five months of purgatory, of fighting and pain and passionate nights and reconciliation, have not happened. It is as if they are just at the beginning once more, eleven months ago, when everything was golden and harmonious. Before everything turned bittersweet, before they battled constantly, and before Mickey Scott.

He cups her cheek, thumb brushing lightly over the high bone. She shudders delicately, eyes fluttering closed. A low moan escapes her as he pushes some of her black hair behind her ears. He stares at her, absorbing her image, and slowly brings her lips to his. The kiss is slow, building, and it lasts. Their tongues intertwine, and their hands fist in one another.

When they finally pull away, breathing ragged, their foreheads pressed and their eyes closed, they cannot get enough. She is on her knees in his lap, her arms coiled around his neck. He has his arms around her waist, and slowly, their eyelids open.

"I love you," she whispers, choking on her emotions.

"As I love you," he whispers back, smiling. She smiles back.

_  
Where did I go wrong, I lost a friend  
Somewhere along in the bitterness  
And would I have stayed up with you all night  
Had I known how to save a life  
_

It had been fourteen years since she had died. July 15, 1996. She was so young, and his heart aches. Just thirty-one years old, and she was gone.

He sits on her grave again, head buried in his hands.

Jamie Ross stands quietly behind him. She came shortly after Claire's demise, and she had seen him at his very worst. As was tradition, she followed Jack to her resting place on her death day. It was an unspoken agreement; Jamie would provide him a shoulder to cry on. He would reminisce. At this point in time, Jamie felt she knew Claire. Her heart ached for Jack, and for the young nymph who had stolen his heart.

"I'm sorry," she wanted to say; it was no use. She had stopped apologizing long ago for things beyond her control.

Instead, she, too, cried softly with him.

When it was twilight, they left for a bar. They would drink themselves into a stupor, and sleep would hopefully come easily.

They drowned their sorrows in a bottle of cheap scotch. It was really the only thing to do.

_  
Let him know that you know best  
Cause after all you do know best  
Try to slip past his defense  
Without granting innocence  
Lay down a list of what is wrong  
The things you've told him all along  
And I pray to God he hears you  
And I pray to God he hears you  
_

When he was not at work the next day, everyone was not surprised. In their own way, they mourned Claire Kincaid; even those who, like Jamie Ross, did not know her drowned their sorrows.

For ADA's like Connie Rubirosa, the memories of Claire Kincaid and Alexandra Borgia were important. The two women were all but worshipped in the DA's office, by all female ADA's, even those who did not know them personally.

April 26, they mourned Alexandra, and July 15, Claire.

Connie had met Alexandra briefly once, in passing. She had been going to see Arthur Branch, and had bumped into her along the way.

"Oh," Connie says, flustered, "I'm sorry."

"No," Alex smiles sweetly, "It's alright."

She bends and picks up some files Connie has dropped.

"My name is Alexandra Borgia," she says, "I work for Jack McCoy. Maybe we can go out for a drink some time."

"Okay," Connie nods, "Sounds good. I'm Connie Rubirosa; I work under Carter Bloom."

"That old nut?" Alexandra laughs, "Well, maybe we can go out tonight."

"Sounds good," Connie had agreed easily.

They had gone out that one time, and that was it. They occasionally talked, but it was not that easy; they were both extremely busy women.

Even still, Connie was upset over her death.

_  
Where did I go wrong, I lost a friend  
Somewhere along in the bitterness  
And would I have stayed up with you all night  
Had I known how to save a life  
_

Connie sat in the far back pew at Alexandra's funeral, across the aisle from Jack McCoy. She wore a low-cut black dress.

"Would anyone like to say a few words?" asked Alexandra's mother.

"I would," Connie stands boldly.

They nod, and everyone watches the young Hispanic woman saunter to the end of the church.

"I did not know Alexandra well," Connie starts, "We met once or twice. However, she was very nice. I was merely starting out in the DA's office, and I ran into Alexandra. She helped me with a few cases and bought me a few drinks. We were not very close, but I feel we could have been friends, had we tried. I, too, am an ADA, and I am filled with grief at the loss of a colleague. I may not have known her very well, but I feel like I did, you know?"

Those words spoken, she nods, and heads back to the pew.

Jack McCoy stares at her through the entire funeral, and approaches her after the burial.

"What you said up there," he begins, "It's touching. I'm Jack McCoy."

"Connie Rubirosa," she greets, extending a hand, "Nice to meet you."

He nods, and shakes her hand.

It was the beginning of a friendship.

_  
As he begins to raise his voice  
You lower yours and grant him one last choice  
Drive until you lose the road  
Or break with the ones you've followed  
He will do one of two things  
You will admit to everything  
Or he'll say he's just not the same  
And you'll begin to wonder why you came  
_

It is so cold.

After Claire's death, Jack accepted that he would die some day. Personally, he did not care if he lived or not. Claire, his Claire, was dead. She had been a coma for a while, and he had fought tooth and nail to keep her on life support; her parents had ultimately won in court, and on January 1, 1998, the plug was pulled. He felt some uneasy justice in that.

The last time they had made love had been the morning before the execution. He would be haunted by the feelings of her hands on him.

Jack McCoy never knew his heart could ache this way.

Alexandra had been different. She was a close friend, but he did not love her the same way.

Claire was his lover, his fiancé. As soon as he had the money, he was going to buy her a ring to make it official.

It was a bittersweet existence he now led.

_  
Where did I go wrong, I lost a friend  
Somewhere along in the bitterness  
And would I have stayed up with you all night  
Had I known how to save a life  
How to save a life  
How to save a life_


End file.
